


Feeding Ducks

by Nny



Category: Good Omens - Gaiman & Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-15
Updated: 2009-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:05:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nny/pseuds/Nny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was strange, how the park was suddenly on his way home from so many places.</p><p>It was strange, how many places he suddenly needed to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeding Ducks

I

It had been a while since the Apocalypse hadn't happened. It had been a while since he'd seen the demon, too, although that only made sense, really. After all, they certainly didn't want to go drawing attention to themselves, not so soon. And if he avoided the Ritz, and the park they'd always frequented… well, Crowley knew where he lived. If he'd really wanted, he could quite easily have come and found him.

Not that he was hiding.

*

It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was shining, giving everything a halo, and Aziraphale smiled at young couples who held hands with the desperation of new relationships, an anchor to hold them away from reality. And on this kind of day, the world allowed it.

He wandered through the park, hands tucked in pockets, aimlessly. Eventually, as always, he found himself beside a familiar lake. Only this time, he wasn't alone.

"Oh," he said.

"It's you," he said.

Crowley turned his head and lifted an eyebrow.

"I didn't expect you to be here," he continued stiffly. "If I had, I wouldn't have. Come, that is."

Crowley shrugged in an annoyingly nonchalant manner, and broke another piece of bread off the slice in his hand, throwing it to a particularly belligerent looking drake.

"Look, there's no need to be like that. There's no reason at all why we can't co-exist happily." Defiantly, he withdrew a couple of slices of bread in a plastic bag from one capacious pocket. "See? Perfectly fine."

Crowley nodded non-committally.

"Oh for Heaven's sake!" Aziraphale threw up his hands. "I can see you're going to be deuced unreasonable about this, so I shall take my leave."

He stormed off.

Crowley blinked, and watched him go.

 

II

He'd never particularly liked the crusty slices at the end of a loaf.

And they did tend to build up, so.

It only made sense, really, to feed them to the ducks. Waste was, after all, a sin.

And if Crowley was there, the demon would just have to put up with him, that was all.

He mentally prepared himself. It was just the kind of day they'd always gone to the park.

*

The side of the lake was deserted.

Unaccountably bad tempered, all of a sudden, he emptied his bag and marched home.

 

III

It was a beautiful day again.

The bread that had been left in the wooden bread bin was getting distinctly fuzzy, in an array of most unattractive colours, but he couldn't quite bring himself to throw it away.

He reacquainted himself with public transport, and made his way by train and bus and- due to something of a confusion as to which stop to disembark at- over a couple of muddy fields to Lower Tadfield.

It wasn't for any particular reason, really. Just to see how things were progressing.

The child was playing with his friends, in an abandoned quarry. The angel sat and watched them for a time; the half-hearted scuffle between the two other boys, the argument over, it seemed, the skeleton of an old umbrella, the childish fits of laughter over nothing in particular. The boy's dog looked up at where he was sitting, and growled half-heartedly, but that was all.

He nodded, satisfied, and wandered into town for a quick cup of tea.

Lost for something to do to fill the time until the next bus to the station, he went into a small supermarket and bought a loaf of bread, going to feed the ducks on the small village green.

It wasn't quite the same.

 

IV

It was strange, how the park was suddenly on his way home from so many places.

It was strange, how many places he suddenly needed to go.

 

V

The little bell over the door of his bookshop jangled in what was suddenly a particularly annoying fashion. He frowned, marking his place in his book with one finger, and raised his head, greeting rising to his lips and, just as abruptly, dying.

"…oh," he said.

Crowley walked over to the counter and nodded to him.

"…it's you," he said.

"It's me." The corner of Crowley's mouth lifted, slightly, and Aziraphale found himself smiling in return.

"I didn't expect you to be here."

Crowley pulled a plastic bag from his pocket, extracting a piece of bread. Very deliberately he tore it in half, placing one piece on the angel's book, scattering crumbs everywhere. And then he jerked his head towards the door.

"Well," he said.

"You coming?"


End file.
